


Damaged Bridges: the Steamy Chapters

by Gandalfs_Beard



Series: Damaged Bridges: the Clean and the Steamy Versions [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-12-16 18:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11834394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gandalfs_Beard/pseuds/Gandalfs_Beard
Summary: This collection will feature explicit versions of some chapters of Damaged Bridges.





	1. Chapter 10: The Changing of the Guard

As March approached and the weather became a bit dryer, Harry was glad to see that Ron appeared to be gradually getting over things. 

Ron was spending much of his free time with Neville, whenever he wasn’t begging Ernie MacMillan to help him with his homework or snogging Lavender Brown - which Ron continued to do frequently and publicly. Harry had also spied Ron exiting empty classrooms on several occasions with Lavender, grinning and looking extremely pleased himself as he and Lavender straightened out their rumpled robes.

On the latest occasion, as Lavender smoothed her skirt, apparently looking for signs of cleanliness, she turned a bit pink and bit her lip with embarrassment when she spotted Harry and Hermione walking by. Ron turned around to see who had caught Lavender’s attention.

“Oh, hi Harry! Didn’t see you there,” said Ron, looking almost insufferably smug and puffed up like a peacock. 

Hermione smiled at Lavender and rolled her eyes at Ron. Harry arched one eyebrow and found himself once again hoping that Ron wasn’t just exploiting Lavender’s affections.

But with all of his extra homework, trying desperately to catch up in Runes and Arithmancy, practicing Occlumency and Legilimency, and spending his free time with Hermione, Harry was far too busy to make the time to see how things were really going with Ron. 

It was during Quidditch practice that Harry reckoned Ron’s extracurricular activities with Lavender were at least having some positive effects on Ron. Ron’s aggressiveness had ebbed a fair bit during the weeks following the Christmas holidays, and he was no longer yelling at Demelza Robbins and making her cry. 

Harry was thankful that tensions between Ron and Ginny also seemed to have diminished, and that Ron was performing better than ever during practice. The worst thing that could be said about the situation was that Ron’s newfound self-confidence was accompanied by a bit of an inflated head. 

Ginny smirked and shook her head when Ron swaggered off the pitch and swept Lavender off her feet with a kiss steamy enough to melt an iceberg.

“Filthy hypocrite!” Ginny snorted mirthfully, rolling her eyes. “I wonder how far he’s got his tongue down her throat.”

“I really don’t need to know,” said Harry, grinning as he waved at Luna who was waving and sitting in the stands with Hermione. Dean took off when he spied Seamus at the edge of the pitch.

“So, how’re things with you and Dean?” Harry asked as Ginny beamed and waved back at Luna. “Er... everything alright? I haven’t seen you two together as much lately.”

“Hunh?” said Ginny, who seemed to have been briefly distracted. Inexplicably, Ginny reddened, her eyes flicking up to the stands again when she registered Harry’s question.

“Oh... er... We’re sort of taking a break,” said Ginny vaguely, looking distracted again as Luna and Hermione came down from the stands to meet them. 

Harry’s own thoughts were interrupted when he caught a flash of green and silver out of the corner of his eye; the Slytherin Quidditch team had just entered the pitch with their new Seeker, who had been training since the Christmas holidays.

Blaise Zabini caught Harry’s eye as he strode past. This was the closest they had been to each other since Slughorn’s Christmas party, as they were usually on opposite sides of the classroom during Potions. Much to Harry’s puzzlement, Zabini briefly halted.

“I really ought to thank you, Potter,” said Zabini, smirking. “I never stood a chance of getting on the team with Malfoy hogging all the glory.”

“Er... what?” Harry muttered, his stomach knotting as he wondered what Zabini had heard. “I didn’t have anything to do with that...”

“Sure you didn’t!” Zabini retorted skeptically. “Whatever you say! Don’t sweat it too much though, Potter! ... Whatever happens between us on the pitch stays on the pitch, alright?” Zabini gave Harry a wink and smirked again as he stalked off, following the rest of the team.

“What’s up Harry?” asked Hermione, looking a bit worried when she spotted Harry gaping in bewilderment at the Slytherin team. “Did Zabini say something to you?”

“Er, yeah,” said Harry, still looking surprised. “I think it’s alright though. Zabini thanked me... and I think he meant it.”

“He did? What did he thank you for?” asked Hermione, her own eyebrows shooting up. 

“He seems to think I had something to do with Malfoy leaving Hogwarts,” Harry replied. “And he seems okay with it... okay with me.”

“Oh!” Hermione bit her lip and looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging and half-smiling. “Well, he’s not entirely wrong, is he?”

“No! ... S’pose not,” Harry agreed.

“I expect he’s happy to be out from under Malfoy’s shadow,” Hermione added.

“Yeah!” Harry nodded as Hermione took his arm and they followed Ginny and Luna - who were whispering and giggling to one another - off the pitch. “That’s more or less what Zabini said to me.”

The rest of the day continued smoothly enough until after dinner when Dora escorted Harry and Hermione back to their quarters. Dora seemed a bit quiet and moody again, as she had on the occasions Harry and Hermione had seen her during the school-term before Christmas, her hair a muted shade of violet and listless. 

Hermione bit her lip sadly and glanced at Harry, catching his look of silent agreement.

“Er... Do you want to hang out a bit tonight?” Hermione asked Dora.

“Oh... er... Sorry! I don’t wanna spoil your evening,” Dora replied, reddening when she realised that she’d been telegraphing her mood. “I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Hermione. “If you’re feeling sad or lonely, you can tell us about it. We’re your friends.”

“Er... You sure you don’t mind?” Dora glanced at Harry uncertainly. Harry shook his head.

“Of course not,” said Harry. “Hermione’s right. Why don’t you join us for a bit?”

“Okay.” Dora nodded. “Ta guys. I could do with a bit of company I suppose.”

Soon enough, the three of them were seated in front of the crackling fire in Harry and Hermione’s sitting room, bathed in its orange glow and sipping steaming mugs of cocoa. Hedwig blinked, peering down at them from the top of a wardrobe, and Crookshanks purred, curled up Dora’s lap, soft music playing in the background on the wizard wireless.

There was mostly quiet for a while, occasionally interspersed with bits of innocuous conversation. Harry mentioned the almost amiable exchange between himself and Zabini earlier that afternoon. Finally, Dora seemed to have worked up the nerve to talk about what was bothering her when she finished her cocoa and took a deep breath.

“It’s Remus,” Dora sighed. “I’m really worried about ‘im.”

“Oh!” said Harry, unable to avoid looking surprised. “I thought... er, Sirius...” Harry trailed off, feeling very embarrassed.

“Nah!” Dora shook her head, a brief wry smile crossing her lips as she caught on. “I mean, yeah... I do think about Sirius a bit still. He used to come over a lot to visit Mum and Dad when I was little, before ‘e got thrown in Azkaban - so we were close, but he was more like an uncle than a cousin. I always ‘ad a hard time believin’ he’d done... er... it. 

“Anyway, it’s Remus... I guess I’ve just got it bad for him,” Dora continued, blushing. “I dunno why really. I know ‘e’s a lot older than me, but there’s just somethin’ about him... something real sweet! I asked ‘im out a couple o’ times last year - the first time before everything that happened at the Ministry.

“He tried to let me down easy, but he didn’t sound a hundred percent, so I just reckoned I’d wait a bit and give it another go. But when I asked Remus again, later in the summer before school term started, he flat out said no! ... said he was too old and poor, and too dangerous. 

“I know that mostly he’s just worried ‘cause he’s a werewolf, and he thinks ‘e might hurt me, but he was pretty adamant. It kind of crushed me and I’ve been tryin’ my best to just forget about him...”

“Oh!” said Hermione. “Is... is that why your Patronus changed? Harry told me about what Snape said to you at the beginning of term, after you found Harry on the Hogwarts express.”

“Snape!” hissed Dora, scowling furiously. “I know he’s Dumbledore’s spy and all, but I hate that arsehole! I dunno what Snape’s fucking problem is! He always was a right bastard, but I don’t remember him treating me _**that**_ bad when I took Potions with him back in my Hogwarts days. 

“Somethin’ about my Patronus set ‘im off. I suppose it has something t’do with Remus - they never seemed to get on - but I dunno why...”

“My dad,” Harry muttered, flushing guiltily. “Because Lupin and Sirius were good friends with my dad. Snape hated all of them when they were in school together. My dad was a real arsehole to Snape once, and Sirius was egging my dad on... Lupin was there too, kind of just watching... letting it happen...” 

“Oh!” Dora’s expression changed to one of surprise. “I knew Sirius and Snape hated each other’s guts, but I didn’t know that was why.”

“ _ **I**_ think there’s more to the story though,” said Hermione a bit sharply, frowning at Harry. “Harry’s mum was there too, and Snape called her a ‘Mudblood’ when she tried to stick up for him... so I don’t think Snape can have really been an innocent victim. 

“Maybe your dad _was_ bullying Snape _that_ day, Harry, but if Snape was calling your mother a Mudblood, it can’t have been the first time he’d ever been horrid to muggleborn. Snape had probably bullied muggleborn students before, and that might be why your father picked on him that day.”

“I suppose,” said Harry quietly. “It was still pretty horrible though - what my dad did to him. I know it’s obvious that Snape hated muggleborn, even back then, but Snape wasn’t even doing anything. Sirius just said he was bored, and my dad just seemed to think it would be a laugh to have a go at Snape.”

Dora looked perplexed for a moment. 

“Well, I can’t say anything about your dad Harry - I never knew him,” she said, “but Hermione’s got a point. I can tell you from my own school-days, and my mum and dad’s, not all Slytherins are rotten to the core - Mum wasn’t, after all - but the ones ‘oo ran around calling all the muggleborn - like Hermione and my dad - ‘Mudblood,’ were all nasty little bullies. 

“Those sort almost all joined up with Voldemort after they left school, like Snape and the Malfoys. So Snape was probably one of that lot, runnin’ around with a gang of junior Death Eaters...”

“That’s more or less what Sirius told us during fourth year,” said Hermione, nodding.

“Yeah... he did say that,” Harry agreed uncertainly. 

“There you go then!” said Dora. “I’m not sayin’ what your dad did was right, Harry, mind you. But even if he was picking on Snape for no good reason on _that particular day,_ a lot of muggleborn who were going to school at the same time who had been bullied by Snape and his mates would’ve probably reckoned Snape had it coming. So try not to judge your dad too harshly without knowing all the facts.”

“I suppose...” Harry still looked very uncomfortable. “But all Sirius and Lupin told me was that my dad eventually grew out of it. Either way, I just can’t see treating anyone that badly unless they were doing something really horrible to deserve it right then... in that moment.”

“That’s because you’re a really kind person Harry,” said Hermione, smiling wanly at him and taking his hand. 

“Too true!” said Dora, shooting him a quick grin. “You’re a real sweetie Harry - a lot like Remus in that regard...”

Harry flushed again, this time with embarrassment; did _everyone_ think he was a Goody Two Shoes?

“Anyway, to get back to what I was saying,” Dora went on, “my Patronus used to be a stupid Jackrabbit. It changed into a wolf sometime around the time Remus turned me down flat - I didn’t know it had changed until after it happened. ... I didn’t even know they could do that! But apparently they _can_ after a particularly emotional event or something... like fallin’ head over heels.”

Dora sighed. “Nothin’ I can do about it though! So I just keep trying to let it go and not get too upset, but every time I hear something, I can’t help worryin’ about him...”

“What do you mean, ‘hear something’?” asked Harry, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as a chill ran up his spine; Hermione’s grip on his hand tightened. “Has something happened to Lupin?”

“Oh... No!” Dora’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “No! Nothing’s happened... at least that I know of. Sorry Harry! ... It’s just, Remus is on an undercover mission hanging out with other werewolves, finding out who’s on Voldy’s side and who’s not - stuff like that. He’s been gone a while - since the Christmas holidays - and... and I just asked Dumbledore if he’s heard from Remus recently, but... nothin’... So that’s why I’m a bit down at the mouth right now.

“I’m sure ‘e’s alright though,” Dora added unconvincingly. 

“Yeah!” Harry nodded, trying to believe it himself, feeling a dead weight in the pit of his stomach at the idea that the last link to his parents was on such a dangerous mission. It suddenly struck him that Lupin was as much his family as Sirius had been - not an official godfather maybe, but as good as. 

“Yeah...” Harry repeated hollowly, “Lupin... Remus, he can look after himself - he’s a great wizard.”

Hermione let go of Harry’s hand and gave Dora a hug, squeezing her tightly. 

“I’m sure he’ll be alright, Dora,” she murmured. 

There was a bit of silence as the three of them sipped fresh mugs of cocoa and nibbled on chocolate covered digestives. When it came time to call it a night, Dora felt a bit guilty seeing Harry and Hermione in such a somber mood.

“Thanks loads guys,” said Dora as she stood in the doorway. “It feels good to get that off my chest. Sorry to bring you both down though...”

When Harry had finished cleaning his teeth that night, he was surprised to find that Hermione had brought her _Hello Kitty_ nightie back to Hogwarts with her; he hadn’t seen her wearing it since the Christmas holidays. Hermione’s cheeks took on a rosy hue when she noticed Harry staring at it, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Er... I just brought it back with me because it’s sort of comforting, in case I felt a bit depressed - it was always my favourite - but I haven’t really needed it with you to cuddle at nights,” she said matter of factly.

“Oh!” Harry turned a bit pink himself, but he couldn’t help grinning. “Well I love it too! You look really cute in it.”

Hermione bit her lip and batted her eyelashes shyly, her cheeks growing even warmer. She snuggled next to Harry feeling more cheered, her arm wound around him tightly. In no time, Hermione was fast asleep, a smile creeping to her lips as she slumbered, bespeaking of happy dreams.

When she woke the following morning, the gentle rise and fall of Harry’s chest, his pulse slow under the palm of her hand, told Hermione that he was still asleep. But she caught the tent in the bedclothes out of the corner of her eye; a little flutter in her tummy and a tingle of arousal made her think. 

Finally reaching a decision, and before she could change her mind, Hermione tugged off her nightie and flung it to the end of the bed, then snuggled back into the crook of Harry’s shoulder.

Harry stirred, feeling loads better than he had last night. He wondered if he was still dreaming when he felt his hand pressed against bare skin. But as he blinked his bleary eyes, Hermione’s nervous little giggle suggested that he was properly awake.

“Blimey Hermione!” He gasped, his eyes nearly falling out of his head, jerking his hand away from her upper back. 

“Wh...what’s going on?” Harry dragged his eyes away from Hermione’s naked breasts, but he was unable to avoid the sensation of her nipples still poking his side. 

Hermione raised her eyebrows, fixing Harry with a determinedly neutral stare and answering his query with a question of her own.

“How long has it been, Harry?”

“Er... what?”

“Since you last masturbated,” said Hermione bluntly.

Harry’s face grew hot and he groaned, surmising that Hermione must be feeling guilty for exciting him every night with her cuddles.

“Hermione, really... you don’t have to...”

“How long Harry? Come on... answer the question!”

“Er... a couple of days ago,” said Harry, seemingly relenting. “...in the shower,” he added shiftily.

“Liar!” Hermione retorted with a smirk, poking him in the ribs with a forefinger. “The water is always like ice after you use it - I always have to run the hot water for a bit. You’ve been having cold showers for months, haven’t you?”

Harry groaned again, flushing like a ripe tomato, feeling guilty, knowing that he’d been caught out.

“Come on, admit it Harry!” 

“Okay... Yeah!” Harry sighed. “I’m sorry Hermione! ... Look, really... you don’t have to...”

“It’s alright Harry,” said Hermione, managing to look earnest despite letting out a nervous little giggle. “I... I’m not sure I’m quite ready to go all the way yet. But I definitely think I’m ready for a bit more than cuddles now. I want to!”

“Er... if you’re sure,” said Harry, gulping anxiously.

“I am... I’m sure! And I’ve still got some vials of calming draught - just in case I do have a nasty reaction.”

“Er... okay then!” Harry squeaked.

He let out a gasp as Hermione slipped her hand under his pyjama top and felt her trailing her fingers across his chest.

“You can touch me too, Harry,” she urged, gently flicking one of his nipples.

Harry felt a surge of excitement, still not quite believing that this was actually happening. He reached out his own slightly shaking hand and cupped one of Hermione’s breasts, giving it a tentative squeeze.

When Hermione responded with an amorous look and a wet snog, Harry felt a bit bolder and captured her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, giving it gentle tugs. Hermione bit her lip, letting out a moan of pleasure. 

Feeling even braver, Harry cradled and kneaded one of Hermione’s bottom cheeks, while he continued to lavish attention on her little hills and tender peaks.

Elated that Harry’s touch was triggering nothing but ever greater desire, her pulse racing, Hermione slid her hand down across his lower abdomen, reaching under the waistband of his pyjama bottoms.

Taking the hint, Harry’s breath quickened as he followed Hermione’s lead, gradually sliding his hand across her taut, smooth belly, his fingers finally brushing the delicate wisps adorning the triangular mound at the apex of her thighs.

Hermione gently grasped Harry’s erection; feeling her warm hand encircling his hardness, rhythmically moving up and down its length, Harry ventured further, slipping two fingers between the lips of her dampening fold. Finding Hermione’s entrance, Harry’s fingers delved into her heated wet sheath, his thumb grazing a fleshy button.

Hermione quivered, biting her lip even harder, brows furrowed with burning desire. Harry knew he’d found her sweet spot and toggled the little button while his fingers burrowed deeper into her slick, clasping channel.

She pumped Harry’s shaft more vigorously, striking the rim of his crown. As their mutual ministrations increased, Hermione’s senses were overwhelmed, flooded, squeaking as a torrent of ecstasy coursed through her body. Hermione felt Harry’s sticky seed spilling over her fingers and knew he was climaxing as well.

Intoxicated by Hermione’s passion wrought features, framed as they were by her tawny mane of hair, and the surging tide of euphoria, Harry lost himself. Hermione quivered, then, giddily, with a blissful squeal, she slumped nearly atop Harry, peppering his face with kisses, nuzzling his neck affectionately.

Grinning, after he’d recovered somewhat, several minutes later, Harry peered at Hermione questioningly.

“So... er... alright then?”

“Better than alright!” Hermione gushed, beaming back at Harry. “And you?”

“Fantastic!” said Harry, unable to wipe the grin off his face. “Even more amazing than I’d imagined...”

**~o0o~**

Harry spent the rest of Saturday feeling slightly dazed. But he nonetheless managed to remember that it was the first of March, and thus Ron’s birthday. Harry reckoned that despite everything, he ought to at least wish Ron a Happy Birthday and give him his present. He went to look for Ron by the Quidditch pitch where he was supposedly hanging out with Lavender, Neville, Seamus and Dean after Ginny mentioned that was where she had last seen him.

Harry left Hermione with Ginny and Luna, who had seemed to be hanging out with each other an awful lot lately. As it turned out, Seamus, Neville and Dean were still there, but mentioned that Ron had headed up to Gryffindor Tower. Armed with the latest password, Harry eventually found Ron up in the sixth year dorm where Ron was sitting on his bed amidst his pile of presents.

“Er... Hi Ron,” said Harry, feeling a bit awkward. Ron seemed a bit startled when he looked up.

“Hey Harry,” he said with a grin. “What’s up?”

Harry relaxed, the tension in his middle draining away, and he felt a surge of hope that Ron was well and truly over things. He’d wished Ron a Happy Birthday at breakfast, but hadn’t been entirely certain if things were really back to normal.

“Just thought I’d bring you your present,” Harry replied, returning Ron’s grin.

“Oh, cheers Harry!” Ron looked a bit surprised. “I was just checking out my other presents - great haul this year,” he added, holding up a solid gold watch. “From Mum and Dad.”

“Cool,” said Harry. “You can add another one to the pile then.” Harry handed the colourfully wrapped parcel to Ron.

Ron ripped through the paper with abandon, and gaped at the present.

“Wicked Harry! Nice one!” Ron brandished the Quidditch Keeper’s gloves excitedly. “I’ve been dying for a pair of my own.” Ron peered at Harry, seeming to notice something a bit different about him. 

“So,” Ron began, a knowing smirk on his face, “you and Hermione then... you finally did it?” Ron made a circle with his thumb and forefinger, thrusting his other forefinger into the ring, just to make sure that Harry got the point.

Harry turned beet-red; he hadn’t realised how obvious it might seem. But he rolled his eyes at Ron’s vulgar hand gesture.

“Blimey Ron! You don’t really expect me to give you the details, do you?” 

“Oh go on Harry! You gotta give me _something!”_ Ron retorted eagerly.

Harry shook his head, half-smiling. “Well, if you _must_ know, we didn’t really go all the way! But that’s all you’re getting out of me.”

“Good enough Harry,” Ron chortled, looking chuffed, as if he still had one up on Harry...

Sunday was as bright and clear as Saturday had been, heralding Spring which was just around the corner, soon to arrive in a few weeks, though there was still a biting chill in air. Dora seemed in a much better mood than she had the night before last, her bubblegum-pink hair several shades brighter, much to Harry and Hermione’s delight. 

“Dumbledore got a message from Remus, late last night,” Dora told them when Hermione asked. “And he also said he’s got a line on you-know-what,” she added with a conspiratorial whisper, glancing around to make sure no-one was listening. “We’re to meet him by the gates after lunch. He’s pretendin’ to go to Hogsmeade, so he’ll be leaving a bit sooner than us.”

**~o0o~**

Harry and Hermione both felt a tingle of anticipation as they strolled through the grounds of Hogwarts, Dora trailing behind them keeping a sharp eye out to make sure that nobody noticed them when they eventually veered towards the woods and took the path down to the gates. Dumbledore appeared out of nowhere, startling them all when they reached the entrance.

“Bloody ‘ell!” Dora grumbled, “Could’ve given us a bit of notice.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as the wrought-iron gates opened. “My apologies, Tonks. Unfortunately there was little opportunity as I was under a Disillusionment Charm. In any case, if you are all ready, we shall be apparating quite a distance, but I know you two are more than up to the task Harry, Miss Granger.” 

Harry, Hermione, and Dora all peered at the map that Dumbledore had handed them. Then, destination firmly in mind, the lane to the village echoed with four loud pops as they all vanished.

The smell of salt was carried by the bitter wind from the blue sea stretching towards the horizon as the wizards took in the sight. The grassy bluff at the top of the cliffs looked like a nice place for a day-trip. Hermione giggled, glancing at Dora who looked stunned.

“I was just jokin’ about the seaside,” said Dora. “Still, no sand, so I suppose Voldy in swimming trunks was definitely out.” 

“So this is where they brought the orphans,” Hermione mused aloud, her bushy hair billowing in the wind, the rays of the sun catching her golden highlights. “It’s a nice place for a picnic. They really did do their best to give the orphans a halfway decent life.”

“Indeed they did, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore agreed, his long silvery beard whipping over his shoulders. “It was one of the better orphanages of its day.” 

“Blimey!” said Harry, peering down the craggy cliffs at the waves crashing on the rocks below as he was buffeted by the strong gusts. “How on earth did young Tom Riddle get down there with two other kids?”

“Very likely Tom climbed down with them, using magic to keep all three of them from slipping and falling to their deaths,” Dumbledore replied. “Of course we shall be apparating to one of the rocks near the entrance of the tunnel. But be careful not to slip, lest the current carry you away.” 

Moments later, the foursome were clambering over slick rocks and were quickly soaked by the spray from the surging tide. One by one they dove into the icy water by the entrance of the dark crevice in the side of the cliff and swam inside, fighting the eddies which threatened to sweep them out to the sea.

The crevice eventually widened and they continued swimming until up ahead the channel appeared to rise from the water. Dumbledore stood up on solid ground. Sputtering, Harry dragged himself onto the ledge and grabbed Hermione’s arm, hauling her up alongside him; she was followed up by Dora.

“Blimey! That water is bloody freezing!” said Dora, shivering as the seawater dripped from her hair and clothes. Indeed they were all half-frozen and soggy. Hermione’s wand was already out as she performed a Drying Charm on herself.

“Harry?” she raised her eyebrows questioningly at him. 

“Er... y...yes please,” said Harry, his teeth chattering, wishing now that he had read next year’s Charms textbook as well. 

Harry felt a warm summer breeze and his clothes rippled, his hair fluttering as if blasted by Aunt Petunia’s electric hair-dryer. Dumbledore waited until Hermione had performed the spell and Dora had followed suit, drying herself. 

Carefully, the four of them watched their footing as they traipsed across the slimy, rocky floor of the tunnel, which opened up into a larger cave. 

“Yes... yes! This is the place,” said Dumbledore as he held his wand aloft, lighting up the cave.

“How can you be sure?” asked Harry.

“Ah, well, take a moment Harry to reach out with your senses. I believe your recent Occlumency training should do the trick.”

Harry and Hermione both did as they were told as Dumbledore and Dora watched, concentrating; the booming crash of waves against the cliffs faded and their skin begin to tingle, prickling, hairs rising as if with static electricity. Hermione gasped. 

“I can feel it...”

“Yeah, me too,” said Harry, “the magic. A wizard definitely enchanted this place. But there’s something about it...”

“...something creepy,” said Hermione, shivering as if still wet and cold.

“It’s Dark magic, isn’t it?” Harry asked the headmaster.

“Quite so Harry.” Dumbledore nodded, and began to slowly rotate. 

Harry moved forward instinctively toward a stretch of craggy wall and placed his palm on the rock. 

“Sir... Professor Dumbledore, the magic feels stronger here.”

Dumbledore’s bushy eyebrows rose as he peered at Harry, looking quite impressed. He touched the wall himself.

“Very good Harry! Well done! Your finely attuned senses picked it up faster than me. This is the entrance to another chamber, concealed by magic.” Dumbledore held his hand against rocky wall for several more minutes as everyone patiently watched with bated breath. Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. “It would seem that we must make payment in blood to pass - unfortunate, but unsurprising for one such as Voldemort.”

 _“B...blood?”_ Hermione squeaked, looking shocked.

“Yes, Miss Granger.” Dumbledore nodded. “Blood rituals are a common component of many Dark magic spells.”

“Yeah... Of course. That makes sense,” Harry muttered. “Voldemort needed ‘blood of the enemy,’ to reconstitute himself. I suppose if he hadn’t had me kidnapped he would’ve been forced to take someone else who was opposed to him.”

“Quite so, Harry,” Dumbledore agreed as he retrieved a silver dagger which glinted in the wand-lights from within his robes, and placed the blade against his palm. “In any case, I shall make the payment so that we may pass...”

“Like hell you will! You’ve already got one injured hand,” snapped Dora, snatching the dagger from Dumbledore’s hand. 

The headmaster looked a bit taken aback to be countermanded so forcefully. Before he could stop Dora, she had already sliced her palm and pressed it against the wall. As the blood trickled down the rocks, Dora healed her hand with her wand. 

A brightly silver luminescence formed an archway in the rock-face, and the wall within the boundaries of the light shimmered and vanished, revealing an enormous cavern within. Harry, Hermione, and Dora nervously followed Dumbledore inside. Dora kept her eyes peeled for any obvious booby traps or obstacles.

The foursome crept cautiously along the edges of a large black lake, its surface glimmering in the sinister green light which appeared to be emanating from a small island in the middle. Harry clutched Hermione’s hand, reaching out with his senses, blocking the link to Voldemort within; he frowned.

“Er... I’m not sure Professor,” said Harry. “I don’t feel a horcrux in here.”

Dumbledore halted in his tracks and looked disconcerted for a moment. His bushy brows knitted in thought.

“Hmm... Be that as it may Harry, I believe that we should still investigate. Voldemort clearly intended to hide something within this chamber, and I suspect it is on the island. 

“Er, yeah!” Harry agreed. “That makes sense.”

“I am glad you think so,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “In any case, Voldemort must have had some means of reaching the island. Let us continue on, and keep your senses sharp, Harry... And be careful all of you - do not disturb the water.”

At that, Hermione’s eyes widened, and she peered at the still water of the lake, looking for signs of Kelpies, Sea Monsters, and Water Demons. They carefully picked their way over rocks and slimy patches of algae until Harry and Dumbledore both came to a halt again.

“There’s something here, sir, isn’t there?”

“Ah, yes indeed Harry. I believe so.” Dumbledore reached his good hand out, groping in the midair until he clasped something invisible which jangled in his grip. 

He tapped his clenched fist with his wand and a chain of coppery-greenish hue became visible. Slowly, Dumbledore reeled in the chain. Hermione gasped as a tiny little boat bathed in an etheric green light rose from the depths. 

“How are we all going to get across in that?” she asked. “It looks too small for more than one person.”

“ _‘We’_ are not,” Dumbledore replied. “Though I do believe that at least one of you might accompany me...”

“Won’t two be too heavy though?” Harry asked.

“And which one of us should go with you?” asked Dora, raising one eyebrow.

“Well, my best educated guess is that Voldemort would not have considered weight, but the power of the wizard - I doubt that Voldemort would have thought an underage wizard would have made it this far. So I would suggest that you should join me, Harry...”

“Yeah, okay...” Harry began.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Dora interjected. “Look, if Harry’s the Chosen One - the one with ‘Power he knows not’ accordin’ to the Prophecy - then I don’t think the boat will hold the both of you ‘cause Harry is obviously magically powerful enough to defeat him.

“If what you’re saying is true, then I don’t think age would make any difference - only the fact of someone that Voldy believes to be as powerful as himself would make a difference...”

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully again as he considered Dora’s words. “That is a very fair point, Tonks. But then...” 

“Then _**I**_ should be the one to go,” said Hermione. Harry shot her an anxious look and opened his mouth to object, but Dora beat him to it.

“No! You oughta stay here with Harry,” Dora said insistently. “There’s no way I’m as powerful as Voldy or Dumbledore - so I should be alright, and you’ll be safer here if there’s any traps over there, or somethin’ in the water.”

All three of them peered at the headmaster questioningly, Dora with her eyes narrowed in a fixed glare. Finally Dumbledore seemed to reach a decision.

“Very well, Tonks it is then. If you would be so kind...” Dumbledore gestured towards the boat, indicating that Tonks should go first. Dora nodded and climbed in, and once she had settled, Dumbledore followed suit. 

As the boat began moving of its own accord across the flat, glassy surface of the lake with barely a ripple, Dumbledore could be heard to say, “It would seem that your hypothesis is correct. Voldemort is quite mistaken to overestimate the value of Power above all other considerations. Clearly, you have proven more worthy than Voldemort himself...” 

Harry and Hermione couldn’t see Dora’s face, but they had no doubt that she was blushing furiously at Dumbledore’s high praises. They both fidgeted anxiously as they watched the boat draw nearer to the island. Hermione kept glancing at the water, her grip on Harry’s hand tightening. 

“I don’t like this Harry,” she moaned.

“Me neither,” Harry sighed. 

“I’m sure there’s something horrible lurking in the water,” Hermione added. “What if something happens to Professor Dumbledore and Dora? There’s no way to rescue them.”

As Dumbledore and Dora clambered out of the boat onto the island, Harry squinted. 

“I wish I could see what was going on,” he muttered. 

“Oh! Of course! I can fix that, Harry,” said Hermione eagerly. “Give me your glasses.”

Looking hopeful, Harry handed Hermione his glasses.

Hermione pointed her wand at his glasses. “Oculus Augmenta,” she murmured; then she handed them back to Harry. “Try them now!”

Excitedly, Harry put his glasses back on. 

“That’s brilliant Hermione!” exclaimed Harry, grinning as his vision zoomed in on the island. “This is almost as good as having Omnioculars. Where did you learn that spell?”

“Erm...” Hermione hesitated, the expression on her face slightly embarrassed, as if she didn’t want to toot her own horn. “I... er... just invented it this minute,” she squeaked. 

Harry’s jaw dropped in amazement. “Are you joking?”

“No! I just applied a bit of Charms theory, focused my Intent, and used a bit of sort of Latin for the incantation. I really wasn’t sure if it would work.”

“Wow!” Harry was flabbergasted. “You’re a bloody _**genius**_ Hermione!” 

Hermione turned pink and bit her lip. “Thank you Harry!”

“Anyway,” she said, trying to divert Harry’s attention back to the task at hand, “now that you can see, what’s going on?”

“Er... They’re standing next to some sort of podium with a basin on top,” Harry replied. “They seem to be arguing about something - I think Dumbledore’s winning this time - Dora looks kind of put out. Now she’s dipping some sort of cup- a crystal goblet - into the basin and giving it to Dumbledore, and she really doesn’t look happy about it.

“Blimey! Dumbledore’s drinking whatever it is... Dora’s filling the cup up again...” Harry paused for a moment as he watched Dumbledore drink the second goblet of unidentifiable liquid. What the...?” Harry muttered, frowning when Dora filled the cup again. “How much of that stuff is there?”

“NO!” Harry gasped; his heart thudded against the wall of his chest in panic when Dumbledore fell to his knees. “He’s ill - something’s wrong with him - but Dora’s still making him drink that stuff...”

A scream echoed across the cavern after the fifth goblet-full. 

“Oh no!” Hermione squealed, gripping Harry’s arm tightly. “Why won’t she stop?”

“I think Dumbledore told her she had to make him drink it. There must be something at the bottom of the basin - it must be the only way to get to it. Blimey! Dumbledore looks awful - he’s crying.” 

Harry couldn’t bear to keep looking, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away either. Hermione bit her lip, her features anguished as her eyes filled with tears when another scream carried across the still, black surface of the lake. 

“I... I think it’s over!” Harry gasped, “Oh fuck! He’s collapsed... Dumbledore’s down. Dora’s waving her wand over him...” 

“Oh no! ... Oh no!” Hermione cried. “Is... is he dead?”

“Wait... wait.. He’s moving... I think he’s asking for water... Oh crap! Dora’s trying to cast an Aguamenti Charm, but it’s not working! Fuck... she’s getting water from the lake!”

And that was when all hell broke loose; the surface of the lake which had been as smooth as a mirror churned, frothing and bubbling like a cauldron boiling over. Hermione let out an ear-piercing shriek - even she could see the figures emerging from the water, silhouetted against the luminous green glow coming from the island. 

There were hundreds of them, rising from the freezing depths and bursting to the surface, swimming toward the island; as they staggered to their feet, lurching, clambering over rocks, water pouring from their sodden clothes, it was more than apparent what they were.

“Inferi!” Harry shouted, wand in hand as he saw dozens of pale water-logged corpses in various states of decay already ashore staggering towards Dora and Dumbledore. 

A burst of yellow-orange flame leapt from Dora’s wand, engulfing at least twenty of the Inferi, but most of the Dead were too wet to catch alight, and those which were burning lurched even closer. A number of them slipped back into the water, apparently to escape the flames, but another swarm ignored the fire as they clambered up the craggy island from the other side. 

Dora sent another incendiary spell - a fireball - which exploded in their midst sending them flying, splashing back into the lake. But there were too many, and as the flames sputtered out, they kept coming.

Both shaking with terror, Harry and Hermione reacted, yelling, “Incendio... Incendio...” shooting their own fireballs across the lake towards the island. The island was too far from the rocky ledge at the side of the lake, and more of Living Dead floated to the surface, their attention caught by the fireballs plunging into the icy water around them. 

“LUMOS SOLEM!” Hermione screamed as the Undead Corpses swam towards her and Harry. The cavern lit up with a burst of golden light as if the ceiling full Stalactites had opened up to let the sun in. 

“Th...that should have worked,” Hermione stammered, when they kept splashing towards the shore. “They sh...should have submerged to avoid the light.”

“They must have some other sort of enchantment on them,” Harry groaned, racking his brains for another spell which might work against the Inferi while Hermione shouted, “Incendio!” again and again. At least that seemed to dissuade some of the Inferi.

“Hermione,” gasped Harry; a crazy thought had entered his head, but he was desperate to try anything at this point. “Our Patronuses!”

Hermione’s eyes, already wide with terror, turned towards Harry with obvious surprise. Patronuses were generally employed against Dementors and Lethifolds - but perhaps their light would have effects on Dark beings such as the Inferi as well.

“It’s w...worth a t...try Harry,” she said through chattering teeth. “B...but there are so m...many!”

Harry tried to ignore his fear, one arm around Hermione who was trembling like a leaf, and as one, both with their best memories - their best feelings - at the forefront of their minds, they bellowed, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

Hermione was astounded when the silvery light blazed - even brighter than the golden light of the Lumos Solem - illuminating the cavern with pulses of dazzling, almost blinding brilliance. Their etheric Corporeal Patronuses charged across the lake, becoming indistinct as they were swallowed up by the radiant bursts of throbbing luminosity. 

Hideous shrieks filled the enormous underground chamber, emanating from the horde of Undead thrashing about in the water, sending a tidal surge splashing over the ledge which swirled around Harry and Hermione’s ankles. 

The young wizard and witch could just make out the flames shooting out of the eye sockets and mouths of those Inferi nearest them, as the flesh withered and blackened, turning to ash which floated on the eddies in the roiling water, skeletal remains sinking to the bottom of the lake. 

And most astonishing of all, as the pulses of Patronus light faded, the Corporeal Patronuses which had stormed the island turned around, their task completed, and padded across the surface of the lake, appearing for all the world as if they were walking on the water.

Harry and Hermione both gaped at the ethereal glowing lion and lioness before their Patronuses faded, shocked, having expected to see a stag and an otter in their stead.


	2. Chapter 13: Seeing Stars

For a moment Harry and Hermione stared at each other, still processing the unthinkable but all too likely conclusion that the Ministry had fallen, and that the new Minister - Dolores Umbridge - had made some sort of pact with Voldemort. It was almost too horrible to contemplate, and Hermione knew as well as Harry that most people would never believe it. Most people didn’t know Umbridge like she and Harry knew Umbridge. 

The look on Harry’s face was devastating. 

Fed up with herself that far from diverting Harry’s angst - that she had in fact only made his and her own moods worse - Hermione let out a furious huff. 

“Right, that’s enough of this then,” she said crossly, grabbing her books off the library table and shoving them roughly in her book bag, startling Harry. “I don’t think I can take one more minute of studying.”

“Hermione?”

She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Hermione couldn’t even look Harry in the eye as she continued stuffing the books in her bag; she began gulping air, her chest heaving rapidly, eyes stinging. Her mouth was dry. She felt cold. She couldn’t breathe... Why couldn’t she breathe? 

_“Hermione!”_

“Hermione!” Harry’s voice called out again, sounding more urgent - even from a thousand miles away, she could just make it out as shadows began to swallow her vision and her knees began to shake. 

Footsteps came up behind her - she felt his hands on her shoulders - felt them rubbing her arms gently - slipping down to her middle - encircling her waist. Collapsing, Hermione fell back into Harry’s arms, gasping, trying to draw in air as the room spun. 

“It’s alright... Hermione, I’ve got you - I’ve got you... Try not to breathe...” 

Harry’s voice was in her ear, reassuring as he held her tightly against his chest. Trusting Harry with every fibre of her being, Hermione did as she was told and held what little breath she had for as long as she could then let it out.

“Again,” said Harry. 

Hermione obeyed, holding her breath again several times at Harry’s repeated instruction; slowly, surely, she began to breathe more normally. Dizziness fading, Hermione turned around in his arms and wrapped her own around him, her tears dripping onto his shoulder.

“Thank you Harry,” she murmured. “I can’t remember the last time I hyperventilated that badly... not since I was little. The closest I came was in third year when all those Dementors swarmed you and you fell off your broom. I almost did when I thought you might be d...d...dead... but Madam Hooch said you were still breathing...” 

Hermione shivered briefly and an image flickered in Harry’s mind, a scene replayed from third year. Hermione’s rain-soaked distraught features - her puffy bloodshot eyes as she stood closest to his hospital bed clutching his hand, surrounded by the mud-splattered quidditch team and Ron - her squeak of distress when Alicia had said that they’d all thought Harry had been killed - Harry could see and hear everything as if it had been yesterday. 

Harry tried to suppress his sudden stab of guilt at having stirred such feelings in Hermione. She had always taken his safety so personally - always taken it hard whenever he’d been injured or in pain - always gone out of her way to protect him even at the risk of their friendship, or her own safety...

Her safety... Another horrible thought suddenly struck Harry as he cuddled Hermione. If Voldemort really was running the Ministry now, through Umbridge, how long would it be before he started going after everyone close to Harry. 

Umbridge knew Hermione - knew she was closer to Harry than just about anyone else. Hermione had been the one to come up with the plan to lead Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest in an effort to save Harry from torture; it had been Harry and Hermione alone in the Forest with the Toad. There was no way Umbridge would forget that anytime soon.

Harry reckoned that Hermione was safe enough at Hogwarts for now, as long as Dumbledore was in charge - but what about her parents?

“Come on,” said Harry gently, giving Hermione’s bushy head a kiss as he rubbed her back. “We need to go see Dumbledore.”

Hermione lifted her head from Harry’s shoulder and peered into Harry’s green eyes, feeling slightly puzzled. 

“I don’t think there’s really anything he can do, Harry...” she began.

“...Not about the Ministry at the moment, that’s true,” Harry agreed.

“Then what...?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” said Harry, not wanting to worry Hermione too soon, “when we get to Dumbledore’s office.”

Hermione bit her lip and frowned, wondering why Harry was being so mysterious, then she nodded, reasoning that she’d know soon enough. 

“Alright then Harry,” she agreed resignedly. Harry gave Hermione a little smile and took her by the hand, leading her from the library.

Dora, who was guarding the entrance of the school library, glanced at Harry and Hermione questioningly when the door opened and they emerged.

“You two alright?” she asked, noting Hermione’s slightly puffy red eyes.

“Er, I am now,” Hermione replied, nodding. “Harry just thought we should go see Dumbledore.”

Dora took one look at Harry and suddenly understood.

“Right! _Umbridge_...” Dora sighed. “Dunno how the Order’s gonna deal with this,” she muttered, leading Harry and Hermione through the drafty stone corridors as they made their way to Dumbledore’s office.

Hermione stiffened when they turned a corner. Harry looked to see who she was scowling at and spied Nott, Crabbe and Goyle huddled by a bay window peering at a piece of parchment. For a moment Harry and Nott caught each other’s eyes, and the hairs rose on the back of Harry’s neck. Nott shoved the parchment in his pocket and gave Dora a sneering look before he turned around and stalked off with Crabbe and Goyle..

“That kid is trouble,” said Dora, frowning. “His father got chucked in Azkaban too, after St Mungo’s sorted him out. I wouldn’t put it past ‘im to be cookin’ up some sort of revenge.” 

“Oh...” Harry suddenly remembered Hermione locking a door in the Department of Mysteries after he’d slammed it shut, and hearing an odd squelching sound from the other side then Lucius Malfoy yelling at the others to leave an injured Nott behind. 

“That explains it then,” Harry continued. “He’s up to something, but I couldn’t tell what.” 

Hermione glanced at Harry anxiously. “Harry, did you just try...?”

“...a bit of Legilimency? Yeah,” Harry nodded. “But I didn’t get much. Just an idea that he wanted revenge for something, like Dora said. I wonder why he never tried to have a go at me before like Malfoy did though.”

“Maybe... maybe he knew Malfoy had some sort of plan, and was thinking it involved getting back at you,” Hermione suggested uncertainly.

Harry looked a bit disconcerted, then nodded as it seemed the most likely explanation. The three of them continued on their way until they finally reached the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore’s office. After riding the spiral stairs to the top, Dora rapped the brass door knocker three times. 

Upon entry, Fawkes ruffled his feathers letting out a little trill and someone already engaged in conversation with the headmaster turned to look at the new arrivals. Moody’s eye swiveled as he glanced appraisingly at each of the trio. 

“Ah, there you are, please be seated,” said Dumbledore, gesturing towards three chintz armchairs, looking for all the world as if he had been expecting them.

“What took you three so long?” chuckled the grizzled ex-Auror. 

“Er...” said Harry, feeling a bit taken aback.

“Don’t tease ‘em, Mad Eye!” Dora snapped. “They were just trying to get on with things without gettin’ all worked up...”

“...and failing miserably,” Hermione admitted ruefully.

“Indeed,” sighed Dumbledore, rubbing at his forehead which was crinkled with worry. “The situation could plausibly be even more alarming than it may appear to the general public.” 

“Do you think this means it’s true then?” asked Harry, “...that Voldemort has secretly taken over the Ministry?”

“Alas, of that, we cannot be certain,” Dumbledore replied. “It could be that Dolores Umbridge has played her own hand to take control of the Ministry, using the threat of Voldemort as a convenient scapegoat for Scrimgeour’s disappearance, or that she has made a pact with Voldemort... Both of which are equally dire conclusions that we may draw, and neither of which are mutually exclusive to the notion that Dolores is now directly working on behalf of Voldemort.”

“She could be hopin’ to play the Death Eaters and the Order off each other, and being in a position to pick up the pieces and consolidate power after both sides have weakened each other,” growled Mad Eye. “Either way - whichever scenario proves true - Umbridge spells trouble with a capital T. ... There’s no doubt she’ll be going after Dumbledore hard, and she’s probably already tryin’ to figure out a way to go after you again, Potter.” 

“Er... That’s actually what I wanted to talk about,” said Harry, his eyes flickering nervously towards Hermione. “I, er... I was thinking about Hermione’s parents... I was hoping we could get them somewhere safe - maybe out of the country....”

“Harry!?” squeaked Hermione, her eyes wide with shock. “What...? You never said...”

“I didn’t want to worry you again too soon, Hermione...” Harry peered at her apologetically. “Even if Voldemort doesn’t really know you, Umbridge does, and she already hates you almost as much as she hates me...”

“Is this true?” Moody’s eye spun grotesquely and came to a halt on Hermione. She nodded.

“Yes, I expect so. It’s more or less my fault she got carried off by the Centaurs,” Hermione moaned. “She was going to use the Cruciatus Curse on Harry,” she added defensively.

“Bollocks!” Mad Eye swore. “Potter’s right, Albus. We gotta move the Grangers as soon as possible...”

“I quite agree, Alastor,” said Dumbledore, looking even more disturbed. “This also brings another serious problem to mind... Returning to Little Whinging for the summer is now out of the question for Harry. Though Harry is untouchable by Voldemort or his Death Eaters at Privet Drive, his residence is accessible to the Ministry.”

Harry’s breath caught; he stared at Dumbledore, his expression now as stunned as Hermione’s. Harry had always hated going back to the Dursleys every year for at least half the summer, but he wasn’t sure how to feel about not going back under the current circumstances. As horrible as the Dursleys were, Harry wasn’t sure that he could live with himself if anything really dreadful happened to them - well, maybe he could if it was just Uncle Vernon. Harry squashed that last thought, feeling guilty just for thinking it.

“What... what about the Dursleys, then?” Harry asked when he found his voice. “They’ll have to be moved too, won’t they? The charm you placed on me based on my mum’s sacrifice protects them too, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes Harry,” Dumbledore agreed. “The day you no longer call your Aunt’s residence home, it will become an attainable target for Voldemort.” Dumbledore turned his attention back to Moody. “Very well, Alastor, our first order of business is decided for us. If you would please begin making the necessary arrangements for protecting the Grangers and the Dursleys. I believe Harry’s suggestion - moving them out of country while we have the chance - is our best option.”

“I’ll get right on it, Albus,” Moody growled, clambering to his feet. “Potter, Granger, keep your hair on. We’ll have your folks moved in the next few days. If you wanna send a message to personally give ‘em a heads up, let me know by this evening. In the meantime, step up your combat trainin’ - don’t be afraid to practice dangerous spells and curses, you’ll be needing them. And keep yer eyes peeled - constant vigilance.” 

And on that last note, Moody lurched, clomping out of the headmaster’s office. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Hermione took his hand and smiled at him gratefully. 

“Well, Harry,” said Dumbledore, “now that we have that situation in hand, is there anything else you wished to discuss?”

Harry hesitated, then decided to just say it. “Er... I think Nott might be up to something,” he tentatively offered. “Except I really _don’t_ have anything to go on but a feeling this time,” he added with a sheepish grin.

Professor Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, and he looked slightly abashed himself. “Well, I must say Harry, your intuitions are oft more accurate than not. But for the moment, Harry, until we have more to go on, it would behoove us all to simply follow Professor Moody’s sage advice, and maintain our vigilance.”

“But you and Hermione ‘ave already got loads on your plate,” Dora chimed in. “So take Mad Eye’s comment about training harder with a grain of salt. You could both use a bit more downtime if you ask me.” 

“Tonks has a very good point,” said Dumbledore. “Professor Moody sometimes forgets that this is not the Auror Boot Camp. I would suggest you take advantage of your spare time to make the best of things while you still can...”

**~o0o~**

Feeling much better about things after visiting Dumbledore with Harry, Hermione knew there was one thing Harry always found cheering. Well, more than one thing these days, but the other could come later.

“Dumbledore’s right, Harry,” said Hermione as they traipsed back to their quarters to drop off their books. “I was thinking the same thing when I, er, lost it earlier. Maybe... maybe we should fly around for a bit - it’s nice and sunny out today.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and smirked a bit at her. “You sure about that Hermione? We could always do a bit of light reading if you’d rather.”

“Prat!” Hermione rolled her eyes and swatted Harry’s shoulder. “I’m trying to cheer _you_ up now. Anyway, I can always ride on your broom with you, where I know I’ll be safe... as long as Smith isn’t whacking bludgers at us.” 

The remnants of a dream suddenly flickered in Harry’s frontal lobes - a rush of wind - a whiff of spearmint toothpaste - and the sensation of Hermione’s arms around his waist. Slowly he nodded.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, grinning, “That’s a brilliant idea Hermione!”

Hermione had been right, Harry thought as he made his way down to the front lawn, his firebolt in one hand, and Hermione’s hand in his other. There was barely a cloud in the sky and almost no breeze; it was warmest the day yet, and there was a hint of honeysuckle in the air 

The sun caught the golden highlights of Hermione’s ringlets; Harry smiled at her as he climbed on his broom. Nervously, Hermione clambered up behind him and clasped her arms tightly round his middle.

“You ready Hermione?”

“Er... yes,” she squeaked.

“Then hang on tight,” said Harry, kicking off. 

There was a whoosh, and Hermione let out a little squeal as they soared up into the sky. At first she squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to Harry for dear life, her face buried between his shoulder blades, but gradually she began to relax. 

This was nothing like the terrifying flight to London on the back of an invisible Thestral, or flying on a broom on her own, afraid that she might drop out of the sky at any moment. Feeling safer snuggled against Harry’s back, knowing that he would keep her aloft, Hermione gradually opened her eyes again and leaned her chin on his shoulder. 

Hermione felt a surprising little tingle of arousal as the broom shuddered when Harry banked hard, circling one of the turrets of the castle and heading towards the lake; she hadn’t expected that. 

Harry swooped down low over the treetops and then buzzed the shimmering surface of the lake. As her bushy hair billowed behind her, the fine spray of mist stung Hermione’s face and the tingle of elation surged, flooding her senses. Unable to help herself, she let out a little moan. 

Mistaking Hermione’s trembling and squeaks for terror, Harry hastily set the broom down in the midst of a copse of huge, gnarled oaks at the edge of the lake in the woods on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. 

“Hermione, are you al...?” Harry’s concerned query was cut off, and he was surprised to suddenly find himself flat on his back in the underbrush, Hermione’s lips crushed against his as she straddled his waist. 

Several squirrels nearby - as startled as Harry himself - scampered up one of the trees into the branches and chittered crossly at the interlopers below.

“Hermione, what the...?” he gasped when their lips briefly separated, starting to sit up. Harry was cut off once more when Hermione pushed him back down and snogged him madly again.

Harry grinned, half-dazed when their lips parted a second time, still not quite comprehending what was going on until he realised that Hermione had tugged off her jeans and was reaching for his belt. His eyes nearly fell out of his head.

“Er... Hermione...?” His voice was several pitches higher than normal. “You... you’re not planning on doing what I think, are you?”

“Why not?” She briefly halted and peered at him imploringly, her eyes full of longing. “I love you and I want to be with you! I’m ready Harry! ... I am! _Really!_ ... But... but only if you’re ready too, of course!”

Harry swallowed nervously. “I love you too, Hermione. B...b...but, we’re outside...” he stammered. 

“So?” Hermione bit her lip, turning pink and fluttering her eyelashes, feeling slightly embarrassed. “... That just makes it even nicer! Anyway, you picked the perfect spot - no-one hardly ever comes to the forest except us, and nobody can see us here unless they come in from the lake - there’s trees and bushes all around us. We’re completely enclosed.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry wondered if recent events somehow had something to do with Hermione’s sudden impulsive behaviour. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of her in a vulnerable situation.

“Er... Are you sure about this Hermione?”

Hermione nodded vigorously. 

“Yes Harry!” she said, continuing to give him a hopeful look. 

Hermione thought about saying a bit more, but thought better of it, not wanting to spoil the mood. She wasn’t quite sure that there was any good way to say that this was the loveliest circumstance she could imagine in which to have a _proper_ “first-time” with someone she truly loved - the way she had always dreamed it would be. 

Hermione’s yearning expression was more than Harry could bear. He felt himself melting in her big brown eyes, which shone golden as they sparkled in the beams of sun piercing the leafy canopy above, and knew that he’d never be able to refuse Hermione a thing ever again when she looked at him that way.

“Okay then,” said Harry, grinning soppily, “But what about... you know, protection? I haven’t learned the charm...”

“I’ve been taking a potion since we started messing around a bit,” Hermione admitted, blushing as she began eagerly undoing Harry’s belt, “just in case I felt ready while we were, er... going at it. Now shut up and help me get your jeans off,” she giggled.

Harry didn’t need any more encouragement. Moments later Hermione was down to bra and knickers and Harry, his tenting boxers, the rest of their clothes having been shed and transfigured (by Hermione of course) into blankets. 

Heart racing, her breath quickening, Hermione unclasped her bra letting it fall where it may, and peeled off her knickers while Harry nervously slipped out of his boxers. Harry looked so anxious, Hermione was sure he was worried about about triggering a nasty reaction and knew she would have to take the lead. 

Hermione straddled Harry’s middle again, and he flinched ever so slightly when her bare inner thighs and her wetness connected with his abdomen. She leaned over, taking his hands and placing them on her breasts as she kissed Harry steamily again.

Electrifying tingles coursed through Hermione with Harry’s every touch, and when his tentative squeezes and gentle tweaks grew firmer and more confident, and his hands roamed from her breasts to her hips and the small of her back, grasped and kneaded her bum, Hermione knew that Harry was well and truly relaxed - as relaxed as anyone could be in the heat of passion in any case.

She felt Harry’s stiffness prodding a bottom cheek when she ground her humid crescent against Harry’s belly, panting, her senses enflamed. Then slowly, gingerly, Hermione lowered herself until she felt the crown of his shaft nestled between the folds of her heated entrance.

Hermione let out a little cry of pleasure as she slid down Harry’s length, feeling him inside her for the first time, filling her. Burning with desire, Hermione rode Harry as she leaned over and showered his face with little kisses. 

Harry, who had been girding himself for signs of distress, inwardly sighed with relief and began to meet the movement of Hermione’s hips, growing bolder and giddier with each thrust, picking up speed as his confidence increased with Hermione’s every moan of joy.

The fervor grew, an inferno blazing through them both. Hermione rolled onto her back, pulling Harry atop her, tilting her hips and folding her legs around his backside, allowing him greater access, in the process sliding off the blanket. 

But Hermione didn’t care, the moss and fallen leaves digging into her backside only intensifying the experience, squealing with every lunge as Harry rocked her, shuddering as gusts of ecstasy swept through her one after the other.

Harry’s breathing grew ragged, the delicious friction of Hermione’s sheath clinging to his plummeting lance more intoxicating than he had imagined - even more-so when iridescent green eyes met gleaming gold.

Hermione didn’t think that the cascade of climaxes could get any more intense, but when her eyes connected with Harry’s green gaze, the crescendo reached new heights and she lost herself as they merged as one. 

Harry felt as if he were soaring through a starry night with Hermione when the whirlwind of bliss caught him in its grasp and swept him along for the ride. He stiffened and groaned, releasing a torrent of his essence in rapid pulses, flooding Hermione’s vessel.

Hermione clutched Harry tightly, adrift in a sea of multicoloured stars, yet intensely cognizant of Harry deep inside of her - body and soul - his beads of sweat against her skin. The very ground seemed to shake beneath her, and the stars seemed to burst like fireworks...

There was a cracking sound, a loud “Eeeep!” - another squeal, and then two thumps and two loud “OW!”s. 

Harry and Hermione were both brought back to earth so quickly, that it took them a moment to realise what was happening. Harry was the first. Blushing furiously, he snatched the blanket from the ground next to them and whipped it over himself and Hermione.

“Blimey!” he groaned. “Ginny, Luna... what the hell?”

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” moaned Ginny, clapping a hand over her eyes. 

Ginny was sprawled on the ground where she and Luna had both apparently fallen after tumbling from the top of one of the massive oak roots which enclosed the tiny glade by the lakeshore. Luna stared, rubbing a bruise on her forehead, her big silvery grey eyes even larger than usual.

Hermione wanted to ask Luna and Ginny if they were alright, but “Wh...what are you two doing here?” emerged from her mouth instead.

“This is _our_ spot,” said Luna suddenly grinning. “It’s where Ginny and I usually come to snog and have sex... Ow!” she added at the end when Ginny swatted her shoulder and moaned, “Lunaaa... shut up!”

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Why?” Luna asked Ginny. “It doesn’t matter if Harry and Hermione know about us. They’re our friends. Besides we just saw _them_ having sex... it’s only fair that they should know we have sex too.”

“We didn’t _really_ see anything...” said Ginny, who still had her hand over her eyes. 

“Yes we did,” said Luna. “Well, just a bit anyway, when we fell. Mostly we just saw all the light until we hit the ground.” 

“Er... Are you alright then?” Hermione finally managed to ask, her brow creased with concern. “What happened?”

“You two - I think,” said Ginny. “We had just climbed up onto the root from the other side - then there was some sort of little earthquake... and some sort of rainbow coloured lightning, almost like fireworks. We lost our footing and fell...”

“...and that’s when we saw you just finishing,” Luna added. “The lightning - it was sort of bursting from the two of you. I think it must have been accidental magic... But I think it must be quite rare for that to happen when wizards have sex, or you’d hear about it more often.”

“Though I swear there were a few sparks last time with us, Luna,” Ginny suddenly smirked, apparently getting over her own initial embarrassment as she peeked out from between her fingers.

“Hmm... I still think it might have been Fairy lights - Fairies are drawn to witches who love each other - but maybe you’re right, Ginny,” Luna said kindly. “Anyway - that was nothing compared to Harry and Hermione’s sex-magic.” 

“That’s true,” Ginny agreed, dropping her hand away from her face altogether now that she was sure Harry and Hermione were covered up. “The whole earth shook, and there was so much lightning... Luna’s right - it’s really rare as far as I know. Has it happened to you two before?”

“Er... first time... I mean this was our first time having, er... sex - going all the way I mean,” Hermione said a bit squeakily, her cheeks blazing bright red. “I didn’t even know that could happen,” she admitted.

“It’s just something I’ve overheard Mum talk about with her friends,” said Ginny. “They’re always hoping that one day it’ll happen to them. It’s supposed to be a sign that two people are really in love, or really meant to be together. But the most that usually happens to most people is a few sparks... I think.” 

Harry turned a bit pink when Ginny gave him and Hermione a significant look. He felt a bit weird about things, considering that just a few months ago he had been wondering if there might be anything between him and Ginny. But Harry also felt extremely relieved that Ginny was apparently well and truly over her crush on him. 

“So, er... you and Luna? You’re definitely not planning on getting back with Dean then?” he asked, trying to sound casual, which was difficult when he and Hermione were both still naked and huddled together under a blanket.

“Yeah, Dean was alright - don’t get me wrong - but we were arguing too much... over the _stupidest_ things! I couldn’t see being with someone who annoyed me all the time like that.” Ginny glanced at Hermione, half-smiling. “It’s _much_ nicer being with someone who you get along with better.”

Ginny’s meaning was unmistakable and Hermione reddened again. Then Ginny grinned and peered adoringly at Luna. 

“Besides, Luna’s a better kisser,” she concluded. “Not to mention she’s much sweeter.”

Luna blushed and grinned, fluttering her eyelashes shyly. “I love you too, Ginny.”

**~o0o~**

After dressing while Luna and Ginny had both covered their eyes, Harry and Hermione had both flown back up to the front lawn of the castle, where they spotted Dora looking relieved to see them both returned safe and sound.

Having recovered from the embarrassment of being caught in the act by Ginny and Luna, Harry and Hermione both felt vastly cheered and in a much more positive frame of mind about the future. Entering the castle and heading back to their quarters to clean up, Harry felt more clearheaded than he could remember feeling in ages.

“D’you want to study a bit Hermione?” he asked as they waited for the moving stairs to reach the right landing. “I think I’m actually up for it now.”

“Oh!” said Hermione, looking a bit surprised. “Alright, I think I’m up for it too then. Where do you want to study?”

“Maybe the Gryffindor common room for a bit, now that I’m in a good mood.”

A short while later, when the pair entered the common room, they found Ron slumped on a sofa looking a bit gloomy as Lavender cuddled him, apparently trying to console him.

“What’s up?” asked Harry. 

Ron pointed at the sign on the wall, announcing the date of the Apparition Licensing Test: the twenty-first of April.

“I’m still rubbish,” Ron moaned. “I haven’t managed to Apparate even once yet.”

“I haven’t either, Ron,” said Lavender, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sure we’ll get it though. We both just need to practice more.”

“And I won’t even be able to take the test until my birthday in July,” Harry pointed out, hoping it would make Ron feel better. Even though Harry knew he was technically emancipated, and could take the test on April twenty-first if he wanted to, the emancipation had been done surreptitiously, and there was no way that Harry was going to give the Ministry a chance to figure it out under the current circumstances.

“Yeah, but at least you know how, Harry,” Ron grumbled. “You and Hermione have done it loads of times. You’ll have no trouble getting your Apparition Licence.”

“Well, there’s no point worrying about it anymore right now, Ron,” Lavender insisted, rolling her eyes. “Look, you’ve still got that essay to finish for Professor Moody about Dementors. Why don’t you try and finish it, and then we’ll snog for a bit.”

But even the promise of a snogging session did little to improve Ron’s mood. He scowled when Lavender set his parchment and quill in front of him with a remarkably Hermione-ish expression on her face. Sighing, Ron picked up his quill and began to scrawl.

Having both completed their own essays on Friday, Harry and Hermione left Ron to it with Lavender, and began revising their essays for Professor Slughorn. Harry pulled out the Prince’s book and Hermione curled up on the sofa next to him, peering over his shoulder as they compared their essays with the book and the Prince’s annotations. Hermione frowned at an incantation scribbled in the margin of the page which had caught both of their eyes.

“Sectumsempra,” said Harry. “I wonder what that one does?”

“ _‘For Enemies,’_...” Hermione muttered. “I’m really happy we’re sharing the book now Harry, but I think this spell proves that whoever had the book was a bit dodgy. It’s obviously a nasty cutting curse of some sort. The Latin means ‘always cutting’ or ‘sever forever’ in English, depending on how it’s translated. 

“It’s probably a variant of Diffindo which leaves permanent damage. A limb which was cut off with it couldn’t be reattached, or a gash would leave a permanent scar, unless there’s a specific countercurse.”

“Oh!” said Harry, feeling shocked, his faith in the Prince slightly shaken. “I... er.... that’s horrible.”

Hermione chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. “Still, it might be worth learning I suppose,” she said slowly. “It could be useful against something charmed to resist a normal severing spell...” 

“Oi! ... Harry, Hermione!” a familiar voice called out. They both looked up from the Prince’s Potions book to see Dora’s head sticking through the portal into the Gryffindor common room. 

“You’re wanted in Dumbledore’s office,” said Dora, her eager expression speaking volumes. 

Hurriedly, Harry and Hermione packed their books and essays back in their bags and slung them over their shoulders. Ron looked up from his essay, gawking in bewilderment as they disappeared through the portal.

“Ahem,” said Lavender sharply, “eyes back on your parchment mister. The sooner it’s finished, the sooner we can have some fun...”

**~o0o~**

When Harry, Hermione, and Dora burst into Dumbledore’s office, their nostrils were assailed by stench of stale alcohol and pipe tobacco, and their eyeballs fell upon the strange sight of a gleeful Kreacher perched atop a prone scruffy-looking, paunchy wizard lying on the Persian Rug. Dumbledore himself sat at his desk, serenely observing the situation, his fingers steepled.

“Master,” croaked the House-Elf, looking very pleased with himself, “I have him - the sneak-thief Fletcher.”

“Oh bloody ‘ell!” groaned Mundungus Fletcher when he spied Harry. “I shoulda’ known! ... I’m sorry alright! I didn’ know Sirius’d left ‘is loot t’you, ‘Arry... I didn’ mean nuffink by it - I wouldn’t’ve nicked it if I’d known it was yours. I mean it - I’m sorry! ... Albus, get this bleedin’ ‘ouse-elf offa me!”

“Not just yet, Mundungus,” said Dumbledore, the barest hint of a twinkle in his eye. “I’m not certain that a mere apology will be quite enough this time - but you and I shall sort that out later. In the meantime, Harry and I have some questions for you. Harry, do you wish to do the honours?”

Harry glowered at the slovenly wizard on the floor, taking some satisfaction in the fact that Mundungus had some scratches and bruises on him, no doubt dispensed by an enraged Kreacher. Hermione shot Mundungus a look of disgust and Dora outright smirked at his disheveled state.

“Professor Dumbledore’s right,” said Harry coldly, “Sirius was supposed to be your friend, and you betrayed him - you betrayed his memory! I’m not interested in your feeble apologies. I’m interested in finding some of the stuff you stole...” 

“Look, if you want them goblets - it’s too late. They’re all gone... ”

“Not the goblets, no,” Harry growled. “But if you’ve got any of the other stuff left, I’ll have it back - especially the pictures of Narcissa and Bellatrix, or Sirius’s mother’s gloves...”

“You can ‘ave _that_ lot,” said Mundungus, giving Harry a funny look. “Couldn’ even give that stuff away, could I? Dunno wot _you_ wan’ it for though...”

“For Kreacher, it’s all he had left to remind him of his family - people he cared about,” Harry snapped, trying his hardest to keep his anger in check. “Anyway, the golden locket that was in the kitchen cupboard - where is it? What did you do with that?”

“O’ course! Reckoned you’d want _that_ back,” Mundungus snorted. “Prolly the only valuable bit left at the ‘ouse weren’ it? ... and the fucking Hag wouldn’ even fork over a knut for it...” Mundungus trailed off, catching Dumbledore’s raised eyebrows at his salty language.

“Who? ... _Who_ wouldn’t give you a knut?” Harry pressed on eagerly.

“Dunno, some Ministry bi...” Mundungus thought better of his verbiage, catching Dora and Hermione’s narrowing eyes. “Some Ministry Witch,” he amended himself. “Frumpy little woman in a pink cardigan - barely bigger than a goblin - stupid little bow on ‘er ‘ead... looked like a toad.”

Harry’s breath caught and he gaped at Mundungus, aghast. He glanced at Dumbledore, his eyes as big as saucers. “Professor, d’you still have the morning paper?”

“Indeed I do, Harry.” Professor Dumbledore wearily lifted the Daily Prophet from his desk, and held it up so that Mundungus Fletcher could see it. 

“THAT’S ‘ER!” Mundungus shouted angrily, forgetting himself. “That’s the bloody bitch ‘oo made me give up the locket. Threatened to fine me if I didn’t ‘and it over to ‘er...”


	3. Chapter 22: Blue Monday

Harry felt even better the following morning when he woke; glancing at the clock, he realised that was because they had slept in quite late, as exhausted as they had been last night. It was nearly eleven, an unthinkable hour to wake up at Hogwarts, even over the Christmas Holidays.

But they were at home... Home! There it was again, that feeling he’d had last night. This morning Number Twelve felt more like home than ever, and with Hermione by his side, more like home than he had ever thought possible since Sirius had died.

Hermione was still asleep, still nestled beside him, her arm still across his chest, and her messy tresses still spilling over the shoulder her head was resting on. He inhaled deeply and let out a contented sigh, then kissed her bushy head. She shifted slightly, stirring, a smile creeping to her lips. 

“Mmm... still sleepy,” she murmured. 

“Too sleepy for kisses?”

Hermione’s eyelashes fluttered open. “Never too sleepy for kisses!”

“You were last night!” 

Hermione poked him in the ribs. “ _ **You**_ were too sleepy last night! Not that I blame you - I know how much doing in a horcrux takes out of you.”

“Fair point,” said Harry, grinning. “Well I’m ready to make up for it now...”

**~o0o~**

Hermione beamed at Harry, feeling happier and freer somehow than she had any right to feel. Nothing really had changed (other than killing another horcrux, which was always a relief).

Things were growing progressively darker in the wider world. Hogwarts had been taken over by Death Eaters. Warrants for her and Harry’s and Dumbledore’s arrests had no doubt already been issued; and the Minister was quickly dropping any pretense of moderation and neutrality and would probably be openly declaring the Ministry’s alignment with Voldemort any day now.

But Hermione had Harry; whatever residual ill-feelings she’d had from her encounter with McLaggen were long gone, and she knew that she and Harry could face anything as long as they were together. 

And they had Dora and some of their friends to keep them company as well. Number Twelve - which had felt gloomy and dismal in the best of times - had never felt so homey. Hermione had never noticed the luxurious feel of the silk sheets before, and she wanted to feel it directly against her skin.

She quickly tugged off her nightie and chucked it to the end of the bed startling both Harry and Crookshanks, who quickly leapt off the bed and darted through a magically appearing cat-flap in the door leading to the adjoining room.

“This is the first time we’ve actually slept together in Grimmauld Place, you know,” she purred as she undid the buttons of Harry’s pyjama top, and gazed into Harry’s surprised looking green orbs. “I think we can do a bit better than just kisses to mark the occasion, don’t you?”

“Er... Yeah! That’s another fair point,” Harry agreed, grinning as she was now straddling his waist, trailing her fingers across his bare chest and kissing his neck. “Much better than sharing the room with Ron,” he quipped.

Hermione quivered, tingles of arousal shooting through her, heart racing, as Harry responded, kissing whatever part of her head he could reach while she continued nuzzling his neck, and his hands slid along her bare skin to her waist. Hermione’s lips finally met his heatedly, her breasts squashed against his chest. 

Reaching back with one hand, she helped Harry wriggle out of his pyjama bottoms, freeing his morning stiffness from its prison. Panting now as the passion took her, Hermione lowered herself until she felt Harry’s crown pressing against her humid entrance. She felt it slip inside her, filling her. 

She ground her vulva against the base of Harry’s shaft, squirming, another heady rush sweeping through her. Then Hermione began to ride Harry in earnest, moans of pleasure escaping her lips. The bed began to rock, the satiny sheets falling away from her backside. 

The ardour built to a feverish pitch. Another wave flooded Hermione’s senses, and she felt Harry bursting, his essence jetting into her depths in rapid pulses as they both peaked. Lost in a tidal surge of bliss, merged as one, the stars came out again and the room trembled in a rainbow coloured flash of lightning.

Hermione slumped against Harry, both of them gasping, eddies of giddiness still swirling around them. 

“Erm...” said Harry, when he began to come out of his daze, “Did we just do it again?”

Hermione giggled at his choice of words.

“I mean...”

“Yes Harry, I know what you mean. And yes, I think we just had another accidental release of magic...”

A knock on the door interrupted Hermione; her eyes widened.

“Oi, you two okay in there? ... Sounded like a bloody earthquake!”

“Oh, that’s alright Dora,” Hermione heard Luna’s voice say on the other side of the door, “They’re just having sex. It’s accidental sex magic...”

“Wait,” said Dora’s voice, “how would you kn...? Never mind. I don’t think I wanna know.”

Harry groaned and covered his red face with both hands; Hermione collapsed on him giggling, her own face burning.

**~o0o~**

Showered and dressed, Harry and Hermione, unable to quite meet anyone’s eyes, their faces still pink, ate a late breakfast provided for by Dobby and Kreacher. Full of eggs and bacon and buttery crumpets, and orange juice and tea, the first thing Harry did was retrieve his mirror from one of his pockets.

“I really ought to give Ron a call back,” he said when Hermione peered at him questioningly. “Let him know that we’re alright and see how he’s doing.”

“Oh, of course,” said Hermione, remembering the message that Ron had left yesterday evening. 

“Oi, Ron... you there?” said Harry, tapping his mirror. “Ron,” he called out again. 

“Hmm... maybe he’s having lunch,” Harry muttered. “One more time then... Hey, Ron... Okay, well I guess I’ll just leave a message...” 

Harry was interrupted by a scrabbling sound coming through his mirror and then Ron’s strangely flushed face appearing against the backdrop of his room. 

“Er... Hi Harry!” Ron grinned. “Sorry about that. I was just... erm...” 

Harry heard a giggle in the background and then Mrs Weasley’s sharp voice, which sounded like it was coming through Ron’s door, calling out, “What are you two up to in there? Why is your door closed?”

“Nothing Mum!” Ron shouted back, looking guilty, his ears reddening. “I’m just talking to Harry on the mirror he gave me - Lavender just happens to be with me.”

“Alright then! ... But I want that door open when you and Lavender are hanging out.”

“Sure thing Mum! No problem!”

Harry heard footsteps fading and Ron muttering under his breath, “Blimey, a bloke can’t get any privacy around here.” Harry grinned.

“So what _were_ you getting up to?” he asked innocently, getting a swat on the shoulder from Hermione for his trouble.

“Oh... er,” Ron grinned sheepishly, “you know, just a bit of snogging. Hopefully me and Lavender will get a bit of privacy soon though. We’re headed to Bill and Fleur’s new place tomorrow.”

“Huh! How come?” Harry asked, feeling a bit puzzled.

“Just in case Death Eaters come looking for me here and the Protection Charms fail. Mum and Dad both reckon I’ll be safer there ‘cause nobody else really knows about it. Lavender’s mum and dad are cool with it because they want Lavender to be safe, just in case they run into any trouble too.”

“Ah! That makes sense then,” said Harry, nodding.

“So what about you and Hermione then? The _Prophet_ had a brief mention that you’d been spotted at the Ministry last night, but the Ministry hasn’t issued a statement yet. What’s that all about?”

“Erm...” Harry shot Hermione a quick glance, but then reckoned they had a reasonable explanation. “Dumbledore sort of turned himself in to the Ministry - just for an interview really - to answer any questions and to try and dissuade them from arresting him. Hermione and Dora and I - we were there in disguise - polyjuiced - to back Dumbledore up just in case things went south - then the polyjuice wore off.” 

“Blimey!” Ron’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, “You’re really doing it then - being part of the Order I mean! It’s probably for the best that I didn’t join you lot then - at least as far as Mum is concerned! I’d never hear the end of it if I’d gone on a secret mission like that. She’d probably murder me if I got killed.”

Harry grinned. “Oh come on! Your mum’s not _that_ bad!”

“Have you _met_ my mum?” Ron chortled. “Anyway, I’m glad you and Hermione are safe...”

“I am too!” Lavender’s beaming face appeared in the mirror behind Ron’s. “Tell Parvati for me that I’m glad she’s safe as well, and that I miss her.”

“I’m here,” said Parvati, leaning over Harry’s shoulder so that Lavender could see her. “You two - look after each other alright.”

“Yeah, same to you too,” said Ron, “and if Ginny’s there...”

“I am,” Ginny yelled. “Thanks Ron! Hope you and Lav get some alone time...”

“Speaking of which, I’d better get going,” said Ron, rolling his eyes, “before Mum storms back up here again and has a blue fit! ...”

**~o0o~**

Dora sighed when she pushed back her breakfast plate, barely touched. They had only been holed up in Number Twelve a few days now and the inhabitants were already growing restless - mostly Harry. She had tried to reassure Harry that the moment Dumbledore had a lead on the whereabouts of Hufflepuff’s Cup, they would be called upon to follow up and help locate it.

In the meantime, Harry and Hermione and the rest were doing their best to keep busy the only way they knew how, fortifying one of the cellars for the purpose of continuing their training, and studying the books in the extensive collection in Number Twelve’s library. 

Dora decided to leave the others to it, feeling a bit queasy, and she was experiencing another one of the strange mood swings. She’d been quite cheerful the night before and during breakfast the feeling had evaporated, leaving a gaping void in her heart. Her usually bright hair was listless and a muted shade of pink.

Hermione gave her a questioning look.

“You alright, Dora?” Parvati asked, looking concerned. “You seemed okay when we went to bed last night.”

“Oh, er... yeah! I’m fine, love! ... Just feelin’ a little green around the gills. I think I’ll just go lie down for a bit.” 

Dora headed back up to the room she was sharing with Parvati, hoping the nausea and depression would eventually fade. But her stomach began to lurch and the next thing she knew, Dora was making a mad dash to the bathroom. She reached it in the nick of time; Dora hunched over the loo and heaved several times. 

Gasping, as the nausea faded, Dora clambered to her feet and flushed the toilet. She washed her face and looked in the mirror as she toweled it off. An odd thought in the back of her mind made its way to her frontal lobes. 

“No, it couldn’t be,” Dora muttered to herself, “...it couldn’t be.”

She was almost afraid to, but she knew she had to. Dora took out her wand and performed a basic Diagnostic Charm on herself. A slip of parchment conjured from thin air fluttered to the floor, and as she bent down to pick it up, Hermione and Parvati burst through the open doorway, both looking alarmed.

“We heard you throwing up,” said Hermione. “Are you alright?”

Dora’s eyes boggled when she peered at the slip of parchment. No wonder she’d missed her period.

“I’m pregnant!” she moaned and the slip vanished back into thin air.

For a moment there was silence as everyone peered at each other, stunned by the news; Dora flushed with embarrassment.

“Wait... how...?” Parvati began, looking very puzzled, “I mean I know _how_ , but who... I thought you liked girls?”

“Remus,” Dora groaned. 

_“Professor Lupin?”_ Parvati gasped. “You mean you and Professor Lupin...?” Parvati trailed off, reddening. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “It’s really none of my business.”

“It’s alright, Parvati,” Dora sighed. “No worries - I’m an open book. It’s true, I do prefer girls for the most part - but there’s a few guys I’ve liked too. And I kind of had it bad for Remus... he’s just a real sweet’eart.”

“But when...?”

“When he came to visit Hogwarts last month,” Hermione said quietly, “five or six weeks ago...”

“That’s about right,” said Dora glumly. “I was so thrilled to see ‘im, I forgot to use a Contraception Charm.”

“But... that’s alright, isn’t it?” asked Parvati. “I mean - you love him.”

“Yeah, I do,” said Dora, struggling to hold back the tears. “But I was managing to deal with the fact that we’d only ever be friends until right now. We agreed it would just be a one-off, ‘cause Remus... well, he doesn’t think he’s good relationship material - because of being a werewolf, see.”

“Oh!” Parvati bit her lip, on the verge of tears herself. 

“I’m sorry, Dora,” Hermione murmured, wrapping her arms around Dora in a hug. “Whatever happens, you’ll always have Harry and me. You’re more than a friend - you’re family...” 

The next thing she knew, Dora was crying in earnest and she felt Parvati’s arms around her as well.

“Er... erm... What’s going on?” she heard Harry’s voice asking from the doorway...

**~o0o~**

Remus drained the last of his ale from the tankard and wiped the foam from his moustache with a napkin, wondering when the others were going to arrive. They were already twenty minutes late.

The young woman behind the bar washing mugs and glasses dried her hands when she saw the middle aged wizard in tatty clothes had finished his ale.

“Would you like another, love?” she asked.

Remus considered his options. He could wait - they would probably arrive eventually - or he could leave and risk missing some information which was potentially vital to the Order.

“Yes please,” said Remus with a sigh after a moment had passed. 

“Alright then.” The young barkeeper gave Remus a canny look as she lifted the tankard from the polished mahogany bar-top. “How about something to eat then, love?” she called back while she filled his tankard from the barrel at the rear of the bar.

Remus had to admit he was getting hungry; he hadn’t eaten since breakfast and this pub seemed as good a place as any to have some dinner. He checked his money pouch to see if he had enough and was pleased to see that he did.

“Yes please,” he said with a smile as she set the freshly filled tankard in front of him. “Some fish and chips would be very nice.”

“Well aren’t you the polite one? Wish I had more customers like you,” The young blonde barkeeper beamed at him. “Usually it’s ‘Oi, wench - gimme some grub,’ and, ‘fancy a real bloke?’ in here. I’ll just let the cook know an’ be right back then.” 

As he watched the pretty barkeeper make her way to the kitchen, Remus couldn’t help feeling a pang. The young woman couldn’t be any older than Dora, and yet for all of her toughness, Dora seemed even younger somehow. Her joyful exuberance, her love of muggle pop culture, her fresh faced features; Dora was still a teenager in his eyes. Remus caught his own reflection in the mirror behind the bar, taking note of his crow’s feet and prematurely greying hair; he felt old.

As much as he missed Dora, Remus was sure she was better off without him.

Fifteen minutes later and Remus was sitting in front of a piping hot pile of fish and chips. He sprinkled some salt and drizzled some malt vinegar over the lot. He had just eaten his first chip when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and glanced at the unfamiliar face with a scraggly beard and unkempt hair.

“You Remus Lupin, mate?” 

“That would be me,” Remus replied with a wry smile, raising his eyebrows.

For all his rough demeanor, the man had the decency to look abashed.

“Yeah, alright! Sorry ‘bout bein’ so late. Why don’tcha bring that over t’the booth so’s we can all have a nice chat, all quiet like with the others?”

“Very well, then.” Remus clambered off his barstool and followed the man to a booth in a more dimly lit corner of the tavern.

Remus grimaced and shot the attractive barkeeper an apologetic look when one of the other men called out, “Oi, lass - ‘ow about some lagers all the way around?”

Remus quickly wolfed down a piece of battered fish and a handful of chips while they waited for the barkeeper to bring four frothy lagers and set them on the table. One of the other werewolves ogled her behind as she strolled back to the bar.

“That’s a pretty bird, she is. Wouldn’t mind givin’ that one a good rogering!”

“Keep it in yer pants Gary!” growled the werewolf who had invited Remus to the booth. “We’re s’posed t’be keepin’ a low profile. The last thing we need is for you t’be causin’ trouble ”

“Ah, piss off mate! Don’t be such a wet blanket! Just ‘avin’ a bit o’ fun.”

“Go bugger yourself Gary!” said the werewolf who hadn’t spoken yet. “We’re here to see who’s in or out, not to have fun.” The werewolf turned and nodded at Remus. “Don’t mind him! He’s barely outta his nappies - can’t go five minutes without sportin’ a stiffy... Anyway, I’m Ben, the bloke ‘oo brung you over is Max...”

“Right, now that we’ve got introductions outta the way,” Max began, “you all know the reason we’re here. Greyback’s recruiting again, and our packs are the last few holdouts. So we’re feelin’ things out to see where our packs currently stand. If anyone’s out, it doesn’t go beyond any of us and our pack leaders so there ain’t gonna be no reprisals.”

“Well, our lot is definitely out,” said Ben. “We’re nearly all muggles ‘oo got bit - only a couple’a wizards in our lot. We’d be sittin’ ducks either way in our human form - so we’re just gonna sit this one out - find ourselves a nice quiet place to lay low and nick a few sheep every now and then.”

“We’re about half and half,” said Max, “Not sure what’s gonna happen if most of the wizards in our bunch throw in with the Dark Lord. I’m a wizard, but I’m not sure I wanna get in the middle’a things either. I’m thinkin’ the muggle werewolves’ll need a couple wizards to help them stay safe, so I’ll probably just stick with ‘em... what about you, Remus?”

“Personally, I share your reservations, Max, and yours, Ben,” Remus replied, sighing. “But most of us are wizards and pack leader Maugrim has already indicated that we’re going to be joining up with Greyback to help get the Dark Lord’s ‘Snatcher’ units up and running - I’m considering doing a bunk myself, but it’s a big risk for me. ... Maugrim is not known for letting anyone just leave the pack.”

“Well, if ye do, you could always throw in with us mate,” said Ben. “We could always use another wizard or two t’help keep us safe.”

“I’ll definitely consider it,” said Remus, “Though if I’m being hunted, it may not make you any safer.”

“ _Our_ leader ain’t so possessive,” said Max, “so if our pack splits up, maybe the rest of us should join your lot, Ben.”

“Sounds good to me.” Ben nodded. “Our pack leader is open to anyone ‘oo just wants to stay out of things.”

“Right then,” said Max, turning to Gary, “So what about you and your pack then?”

“Mostly wizards,” Gary said with a shrug. “For meself, I’m planning on joining the Dark Lord, and our pack leader’s leanin’ the same way. .... And why not? What ‘ave the Ministry ever done for us? They just keep pushin’ us down - makin’ it impossible to get a job or find a decent place t’live! ... At least the Dark Lord’ll give us back a way t’make a living, give us a bit of a chance for a bit o’ self-respect.”

“Well,” said Lupin slowly, “I certainly understand your sentiments Gary. I don’t think any one of us here would advocate siding with the Ministry. But here’s the thing, the Dark Lord has his own agenda, and it only involves werewolves insofar as he can use us. The Dark Lord has no more respect for us than he does for muggles and muggleborn wizards - or else why not make Greyback a full Death Eater...?”

“You mean ‘e ain’t a Death Eater?” Gary looked honestly surprised. “But ‘e’s been goin’ around tellin’ everyone ‘e is.”

“I have it on very good authority,” said Lupin. “Severus Snape was at one time a colleague of mine...”

“Blimey mate!” Ben’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s one scary bloke! Even I wouldn’t wanna cross him - he’s one of the Dark Lord’s favourites isn’e, since he got the boot from Hogwarts? Heard he was a vampire and he certainly looks the part.”

“Don’t believe _everything_ you hear.” Lupin’s moustache twitched and his eyes crinkled with mirth. “In any case, before anyone makes a final decision, consider this, the Dark Lord and the Ministry are now aligned - so that should give us all pause as to what he really has planned for us...”

“You’re jokin’!” said Gary. “That can’t be right!”

“Isn’t it?” Lupin retrieved a rumpled copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from within his cloak. “Dolores Umbridge is the one who pushed through the anti-werewolf legislation a few years ago. She’s the one who cost me my job at Hogwarts... and now she’s Minister...”

“Well there you go mate...”

“Not so fast, Gary. Who’s she been going after since she became Minister? The Dark Lord? No! Minister Umbridge has her sights fixed on Dumbledore, and look at this - today’s paper - now she is taking credit for the Dark Lord’s takeover of Hogwarts - if that isn’t a sign of alignment, I don’t know what is.”

Remus opened the newspaper and laid it on the table for all to see. Gary took one look at the headline and snatched it up.

**Minister Confirms Takeover of Hogwarts Was Ministry Operation**

_Minister Dolores Umbridge, confirms that the takeover of Hogwarts at the weekend was in fact a Ministry operation, taken when Dumbledore escaped from custody after his interview Friday night with Ministry officials, which further implicated him in the disappearance of former Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour._

_It has also been confirmed, that several of You-Know-Who’s top lieutenants took part in the operation, including Severus Snape, who we now know was surreptitiously sacked by Dumbledore, rather than being taken ill, as had previously been reported._

_According to Minister Umbridge, this secret sacking of Severus Snape is in keeping with new information uncovered by a joint investigation conducted by the DMLE and the Unspeakable Office, revealing that it was Dumbledore himself who was plotting against the Ministry, in his bid to violently subjugate Pureblood wizards with an army of Muggleborns._

_Minister Umbridge confirms that You-Know-Who’s vilification by Dumbledore was nothing more than a smokescreen to hide his own conspiracy. This sheds an entirely new light on the last war, from which it can now be understood that You-Know-Who had taken up arms in a legitimate grievance against an increasingly corrupt Ministry ensnared in Dumbledore’s web of intrigue and deceit._

_Following the Ministry operation, Severus Snape has since been appointed to the position of Headmaster, a role for which he is eminently suited._

_In a closely related story, it has also been confirmed that Harry Potter and his muggleborn fiancee, Hermione Granger, were indeed seen fleeing the Ministry last Friday evening, after helping Dumbledore escape Ministry confines, and arrest warrants have been issued for all..._

“Bloody hell!” Gary gasped. “You weren’t jokin’ at all! Blimey! This throws a spanner in things, don’ it?” Gary looked up at Remus, his face pale. “Oi, mind if I keep this? ... I don’t think our pack leader’s seen this. He’ll probably wanna rethink things - the only reason we was thinkin’ o’ joinin’ the Dark Lord was to get ourselves a fair shake, but if he’s in with that bitch Umbridge... Blimey! ... Well, that says it all, don’ it?”

“It does indeed,” Remus agreed, letting out a sigh. “Sadly, I don’t think Maugrim sees it that way. Like Greyback, I think he is more keen on tasting human flesh, and most of the others in my pack feel the same as he...”

Remus paused when he saw that everyone around the table looked extremely uncomfortable - even rather ill - at that. It was clear that they, like Remus, were more inclined to maintain control over their wolfish urges rather than to embrace them.

“...which is why I cannot remain in my pack of course,” he concluded.

“Well my offer still stands mate,” said Ben hoarsely. “You wan’ outta your pack, and we could use another wizard in ours.”

Max looked pensive, then slowly nodded. “I think I’ll be able to convince at least some o’ the wizards in our bunch to stick with the muggle werewolves now. If you’ll have us, we’ll join up with your lot too, Ben.”

Ben looked pleased - eager even. “I don’ see any problem with that. So what about your lot, Gary - you’re mostly wizards. Care to join us?”

“Can’t promise anything,” Gary muttered, still scowling at the moving image of Umbridge on the front page. “But most of us are more about gettin’ a fair shake than gettin’ a free pass to eat people - so there’s a good chance most of us’ll join you. ... Not sure we’ll be totally comfortable with just sittin’ on the sidelines though while Umbridge and Voldy hammer Britain - we’re more about _fightin’_ for what’s owed us!”

Remus smiled; that was exactly the attitude needed if he hoped to get some werewolves to ally with the Order. He raised his eyebrows at Ben and Max who were both looking a bit hesitant. 

“Well, I rather think Gary’s got a point,” Remus opined. “But it’s probably best to just pull as many of us together as possible and find a safe place while we work out the best way forward to begin with. ... Obviously the muggle werewolves won’t be able to join the fight in the same way that wizards can - but that doesn’t mean they’re totally defenceless if we can get our hands on some muggle weapons...”

There was a look of surprise around the table. The others hadn’t even considered that...


End file.
